


Here I Am

by Lasae_abyss



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Yaoi, grimmjow is a bastard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:37:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lasae_abyss/pseuds/Lasae_abyss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grimmjow's quite happy with the fact that his fights with Ichigo are all he really has left, but now the Shinigami suddenly won't indulge him, and Grimmjow wants to know why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Here I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Idea inspired by episode 121 and Deena's _Playing the Part_ (Weiss Kreuz - at <http://www.fanfiction.net/s/199835/1/>).

Hands on his hips, Grimmjow regarded the town through narrowed eyes. It was that silent time before dawn's first light, ostensibly the darkest part of the night, and the entire town seemed to be sleeping, undisturbed. Grimmjow tapped his foot and scowled.

 

He was so fucking _bored_.

 

Cast out by the Espada, he had nothing better to do than roam the barren wastelands of Las Noches or come back here and tangle with Soul Society. Causing havoc in the real world got old fast when all he got for it was a few screaming mortals and a run-in with some pathetic, afro-wearing Shinigami he could beat the shit out of with his eyes closed.

 

There was only one thing in Karakura worth his time, and that was Kurosaki Ichigo.

 

The Shinigami was the only person who could provide him with some kind of entertainment and still keep him on his toes. Even with everything that lay between them, Grimmjow found that he actually _enjoyed_ their fights. Kurosaki was perhaps the only thing that made the time go faster.

 

Grimmjow snarled. If he could just fucking _find_ him.

 

The house he normally tracked him to was empty of his _reiatsu_ , and for once, the Shinigami seemed to have been developing his skills, for there wasn't a trace of him in the entire city.

 

Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets, scowling at the air beneath his feet. "God damn Shinigami." I mean, really, what the fuck could he _do_ in this waste of space? He let his _reiatsu_ fluctuate playfully and grinned when it caught a faint echo deeper in the city.

 

A few quick steps and he was standing on some darkened street beside the Shinigami brat.

 

Ichigo tensed. One of his hands flexed - eager, Grimmjow knew, to feel the handle of his zanpakutō. The Arrancar smirked. He slid into a battle stance and gripped his own Pantera. He stayed that way for a minute. Then another minute.

 

Then another.

 

Finally, Grimmjow straightened. The boy had his back to him, and had barely moved since Grimmjow had popped into existence behind him.

 

"What the fuck, Kurosaki?" asked Grimmjow in exasperation. He tossed his head back. "What’s wrong with you?" Ichigo didn’t move. The Arrancar crept a little closer. Ichigo was staring blankly at a park across the street. Grimmjow poked him.

 

With a long-suffering sigh, Ichigo shifted his weight. Grimmjow bristled happily. _That’s more like it._ "What are you doing here, Grimmjow?" Ichigo said wearily. His face was drawn and tired.

 

"I wanna fight," came the immediate reply.

 

"Well, I don't."

 

Grimmjow blinked at him. "What d'you _mean_ , you don't wanna fight?!" To Grimmjow, the prospect was completely foreign. Besides, this was _Kurosaki_. They _always_ fought. It's what they _did_. "I _want_ to _fight_ ," he repeated, enunciating clearly in case the Shinigami had misunderstood.

 

"Yeah, I get it," Kurosaki muttered. He still hadn't looked at him, and Grimmjow started to feel irritated about the fact.

 

"So?" he prompted.

 

"I beat your ass into the ground in Las Noches, remember?" Kurosaki replied shortly. "Isn't that enough?"

 

 _Hell no._ "Hell no, that was a lucky win - I'm gonna beat you black and blue this time, Shinigami," grinned the Arrancar, one hand curled around his zanpakutō. He was aching for a good fight, and no one else could give him the same adrenaline rush that Kurosaki Ichigo did. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that he missed it.

 

"No."

 

_Eh?_

 

Grimmjow had to physically stop himself from stamping his foot on the floor in irritation. "Why the fuck not?" he spat.

 

Kurosaki tilted his head back and shot him an exasperated look. "I'm not in the fucking mood, alright? Don't you have better things to do than hang around trying to antagonise me?"

 

 _No._ Grimmjow bit back the word and didn't answer. With a little snort Kurosaki turned back to stare at the park. A few teenagers were running around in the dark playing football, screaming whenever they scored a goal. The sound made him wince and Grimmjow kicked out at the metal railing.

 

"What else am I supposed to do, then?" he demanded. "Ain't nothing in this stupid town but itty-bitty Hollows and you, Shinigami."

 

"So leave."

 

"What?" The Arrancar straightened. "No. You leave," he retorted, childishly. Kurosaki rolled his eyes at him and disappeared. After a frozen minute Grimmjow pinpointed his reiatsu on the other side of the city.

 

The _fuck_? He hadn't actually _meant_ it.

 

Grimmjow was tempted to give up on the taciturn Shinigami, but something in him wanted to know more. Usually he only had to quirk an eyebrow or mutter something about how _weak_ and _useless_ he was, and Kurosaki was gagging to put on a show. What the hell was his problem now?

 

The wind whistled as the Arrancar vanished, flash-stepping across town until he stood beside Kurosaki again. The boy actually had the audacity to _growl_ at him. "What do you _want_ , Grimmjow?"

 

"Fight," he reminded him. Did humans get senile this early? "C'mon, Kurosaki, just for a bit," he added, uncomfortably aware that he was almost _whining_. "I’ll go easy on you. Promise," he said, and crossed his fingers behind his back.

 

"No," came the abrupt reply. Grimmjow considered attacking the boy anyway, but it just wasn't the same when his heart wasn't in it.

 

"But it'll be fun," he suggested with a bloodthirsty grin.

 

"Yeah, well, I don't want to," the shinigami said shortly.

 

"Since when?" Grimmjow asked in honest curiosity.

 

"Since I just found my boyfriend fucking his vice captain!" Kurosaki snapped. "Happy?!" and he vanished. For a moment Grimmjow just stood there with his mouth hanging open.

 

 _Kurosaki had a_ what _? And since when? And wait, hold up, he's been fucking a_ captain _?_

 

"Oh fuck _no_ are you getting away with that," Grimmjow muttered. He shook himself, doglike.

 

Traces of a familiar _reiatsu_ appeared to the north, and Grimmjow regarded the sky with narrow eyes and a fledgling grin. Kurosaki had _had_ a boyfriend. From the looks of things, he didn’t take infidelity well. The grin spread and he focussed on the _reiatsu_ burning so brightly. All the better for yours truly.

 

This time Kurosaki stood on a flat rooftop above the main street of Karakura Town. Below him the roads streamed with bright lights. The shinigami stared pensively towards the horizon, his shihakushō flapping gently in the breeze, and Grimmjow’s mind sped thinking of how he could take advantage of the situation.

 

"What the hell are you talking about, Shinigami?" he asked finally.

 

"Don’t call me that," Ichigo replied immediately.

 

Grimmjow shoved his hands in his pockets and leant against the wall. "Stra~awberry," he said, dragging the word out. Ichigo flinched and Grimmjow wondered, with amusement, if he’d unwittingly stumbled on a pet name. "So, a _Captain_ , eh?" he added, deciding to get straight to the issue. Silence from the black-robed Shinigami, so Grimmjow looked up at the stars and went on. "I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type, Strawberry," he said, taking a perverse delight in the way Ichigo’s name had such an effect on the boy. "The little snow white shinigami will be crushed. And that sweet thing with the giant -" He was cupping his hands in front of his chest when a rock cuffed him on the side of his head. Gingerly, he rubbed the spot. "Oi."

 

"Don’t talk about Inoue like that." Ichigo was glaring at him, and suddenly Grimmjow realised how he could stoke the fire in those eyes. He spread out both his hand in a pacifying gesture.

 

"Whatever you want, strawberry. Just sayin’. Or do they already know you like takin’ it up the ass?" Ichigo’s eyes narrowed to the point of slits. That addictive surge of adrenaline flowed through his blood and Grimmjow breathed in deeply. "And getting fucked over by a Captain, too - if you’re trying t’get promoted, strawberry, even I can tell you, that ain’t the way to do it." He scratched his chin and watched Kurosaki closely. "Well, s’ppose it depends on _which_ captain. Eye Patch came after you in Las Noches…" No reaction. _Thank fuck, ‘cause that’s not an image I wanna think about._ He’d been lingering on the edges of Ichigo’s world for a while now, and he struggled to remember any link the boy had to Soul Society. "Wait," he muttered. "Doesn’t the little snow have a brother…?" Something flashed in Ichigo’s eyes. "A Captain, ain’t he?" Grimmjow asked, smirking all over his face. "Real hard nut to crack. Somethin’ like Byaku-"

 

In a heartbeat, Ichigo had the sharp edge of his blade up against Grimmjow’s neck. The Arrancar grinned at him. "You want to fight or what?" the shinigami snapped.

 

"Hell yes." Grimmjow flicked away Kurosaki’s massive blade and drew his own. With relish he swung Pantera forward and met Kurosaki in a clash of blades. They leapt back and Grimmjow prowled around his opponent. God, he’d _missed_ this. "You sure are touchy today, strawberry. He can’t’ve been _that_ good a fuck." Ichigo whirled towards him. In a second a surge of dark energy washed over him, and Ichigo reappeared clutching a long, slender zanpakutō. Grimmjow chuckled.

 

As the shinigami came towards him again Grimmjow ducked back. He parried Ichigo’s zanpakutō and thrust forward. Snarling, Ichigo was forced to the side to avoid it. The air rang with the sound of ringing metal and their own harsh breaths. Darting in, Ichigo sliced open a deep cut in his arm. With a grunt, Grimmjow kicked him away. "Shit, Kurosaki," he panted. At this level they should have been a pretty even match, but Grimmjow had forgotten how strong Ichigo was, and this time he was fuelled by anger. "No wonder he fucked someone else."

 

" _Fuck you_!" Ichigo slammed into him and knocked him into the sky. Spiralling wildly, Grimmjow sought for purchase in the air, but as soon as he’d righted himself the shinigami smashed into him again and he crashed down into a small alley. Cement and stone went flying as he crashed and Grimmjow coughed up blood. Ichigo landed beside him. "What the hell do you know about it, anyway?" he spat, his eyes nearly glowing.

 

"Motherfucker," Grimmjow muttered. He got to his feet and eyed Ichigo warily. "Don't get me involved in your fuckin' domestic, Kurosaki," he said, wilfully choosing to ignore the fact that he’d been the one prying. "I don’t give a shit who you’re fucking, long as you keep your head straight." The words tasted strange in his mouth.

 

Ichigo tossed his head arrogantly. "You started it, you bastard," he growled.

 

Grimmjow fell into an offensive stance. The shinigami mirrored him. "You fucking started it," he said, landing a neat punch to Kurosaki’s jaw. Quickly he followed it up, whipping around and slicing a long arc into his shoulder. "You shouldn’t’ve fucked a Captain in the first place. Fuckwit," he added, for good measure. Grimly Ichigo feinted to the left, then suddenly he turned into Grimmjow’s body and shoved him back.

 

"What the fuck _should_ I’ve done, then?" he asked, his voice practically cracking with frustration.

 

Grimmjow was annoyed at being forced on the defensive so soon and spoke without thinking. "You should’ve come to _me_."

 

Ichigo stopped, blinking and bemused. "What?"

 

 _What?_ Standing in the middle of the darkened street, Grimmjow shrugged and tried to recover while his mind wondered what the fuck he was doing. "No complications. No vice-captains." He left it at that, praying Kurosaki wouldn’t ask questions. He’d much rather forget he’d ever said anything.

 

They circled each other for a moment. Ichigo was eyeing him warily. "You…" Grimmjow saw the young Shinigami swallow and saw, in that moment, his guard drop. "You’d… want that?"

 

Hurtling forward, Grimmjow swung his arm down so their blades met with a vicious clash. Kurosaki dug his heels in with a grunt and met him inch for inch. With only a hair’s breadth between them, Grimmjow opened his mouth to lie but instead the truth came pouring out. "I’d fuck you anytime, beautiful." Kurosaki’s eyes widened and Grimmjow leapt back. _Shit. Why the fuck can’t I keep my damn mouth shut?_ "All you have to do is beg," he added, grinning, and Ichigo snarled.

 

"Why the hell would I beg _you_?" the Shinigami spat. A spin of that dark blade and Grimmjow dodged away, narrowly avoiding another deep cut.

 

"’Cause I can make you forget," Grimmjow hissed, quickly finding his footing. There was an arrested expression in Ichigo’s eyes. Ignoring it, Grimmjow used his Sonído to disappear and reappear on the other side of the road. Ichigo turned, but slowly, and before he knew it Grimmjow had him up against a wall.

 

"Okay," breathed the Shinigami.

 

Drawing back for another strike, the Arrancar raised an eyebrow. "What?"

 

"Fuck me."

 

Grimmjow stopped dead. "Eh?" Absently he wondered if Espada were physically able to develop hearing problems. "Say that again, Strawberry?"

 

A pretty scowl twisted Ichigo’s features. "I _said_ , fuck me."

 

Grimmjow lowered his sword, staring at the boy in genuine confusion. "I don’t get it," he muttered. _What the hell kind of game are you playing?_ "What d'you want, red?" Pain flared in Kurosaki's eyes. Grimmjow felt a surge of oddly placed anger; for some reason it _hurt_ to see Kurosaki deep in an agony that he'd had nothing to do with.

 

"I want you to make me bleed." The Shinigami was almost trembling, gripping his zanpakutō with white knuckles. As far as Grimmjow could tell, he was serious.

 

"Why?"

 

"Maybe ’cause I just saw my god-damned _fiancé_ bent over his desk being fucked by someone else and I wanna make him sorry," Kurosaki recited in steely tones that barely hid the frustration beneath. "Good enough?"

 

_Fiancé??_

 

Grimmjow hesitated as he looked at the Shinigami. That same damn scowl was on his face, but his eyes held fractures of dark pain. It wasn't any of his business, and he really should be pummelling Kurosaki into the ground, but…

 

Those eyes were so full of pain.

 

Grimmjow folded his arms behind his head and let his eyes roam over the Shinigami’s body. He knew there had to be miles of smooth, tanned skin hidden under that uniform. The boy was hot, and to say he wasn't interested would be a downright lie. A decidedly lecherous grin twisted his lips into their usual manic expression. Well, why the hell not?

 

After a minute he sheathed Pantera. Ichigo was still standing there, so beautifully vulnerable. "Alright," he murmured, that oh-so-familiar grin tugging at his lips. Never one to do things by halves, Grimmjow slipped past Ichigo’s zanpakutō and pushed him up against the wall. A small hiss escaped the boy as their bodies met. Grimmjow felt the touch of that _reiatsu_ that vibrated as strong and dark as Aizen's and he purred, pressing closer.

 

Dark eyes looked up at him full of something almost like trust. Grimmjow frowned. "I ain't doin' this for you, Kurosaki," he said, and again the words tasted like ash in his mouth. Who was he comforting? " I just want a good fuck."

 

Ichigo gripped his short jacket and tugged him forwards. "So fuck me," he whispered against the Arrancar's grinning mouth, and with a groan Grimmjow gave in.

 

Their mouths crashed together with all the heat and fervour Grimmjow felt surging through his veins. Kurosaki’s mouth tasted of salt and blood. Eagerly he nipped at the boy’s lips, prying them apart with his tongue. Giving way to the pressure of his mouth, Ichigo’s tongue rose up to meet his own. The boy’s body pressed up against him, and Grimmjow enfolded him in his embrace. Suddenly he never wanted to let go.

 

Growling, Grimmjow pushed the thought away, focussing on the feel of that lithe body up against his own. _Why the fuck haven’t we done this before?_

 

He nudged Kurosaki’s head to the side and feasted eagerly on his neck. "Mm-mm," hummed Ichigo, his head falling back against the wall. Grimmjow mouthed the cord of his throat, dipping his tongue into the hollow at its base. The Shinigami’s fingers tangled brutally in his hair.

 

"Feel good?" asked Grimmjow, and his mind added, almost inaudible, _Better than him?_

 

"Good," Ichigo affirmed quietly. The Arrancar slid his hand against Ichigo’s ribs, using the other to tug away the collar of his shihakushō. A slender, curved collarbone was revealed and Grimmjow, unable to resist, bit it. Ichigo jerked in his hold, tugging Grimmjow even closer. "Fuck," he muttered. Shivery thrills went through Grimmjow in response and he rubbed himself against the Shinigami. He was already hard and - some part of Grimmjow marvelled at it - so was Kurosaki.

 

Instinctively Grimmjow reached for his Sonído and in mere seconds they were standing on a rooftop above the world. "Where can we go?" he asked breathlessly, his voice muffled against Ichigo’s skin. "Just tell me where to go." There was a tinge of desperation to his voice that Grimmjow tried to ignore.

 

"Um…" Ichigo took a moment to speak. "Shit, I don’t know. We can’t go home, they’ll see…"

 

A groan of frustration escaped him. "I _need you_ , Kurosaki," Grimmjow said in guttural tones. Hastily he looked up and scanned the town. _There._ A small, neon-lit sign stood out in the darkness across the street. Grimmjow gathered Ichigo into his arms and the Shinigami frowned. "I’m going to take you to a Love Hotel," he informed him, grinning.

 

"You are fucking not," snapped Ichigo instantly.

 

"Where else are we gonna go that’s got four walls and a bed? I ain’t doing this out where that bloody Afro can find us. Come on, Strawberry, I’ll treat you," he coaxed.

 

The brown eyed boy hesitated. "But… do you have any money?" Grimmjow stared at him. "Ah, right." Ichigo looked embarrassed. Rolling his eyes, Grimmjow lifted the Shinigami off his feet and flash-stepped them both across the road, into the hotel. No attendant or security camera could hope to pick them up, and Grimmjow picked the first empty room he came to. It was a large, decadent room dominated by a gaudy king-sized bed. There were fluffy handcuffs on the table and the lights were soft and shadowy. Grimmjow thought it looked tacky, but Ichigo’s slim figure in his arms drew his attention all too quickly.

 

He set Ichigo down, reaching swiftly for his mouth. The Shinigami met him halfway, dragging him closer by the lapels of his jacket. The hot, moist warmth of his mouth opened readily for Grimmjow’s tongue, sending an eager jolt of desire to his cock. He curled his tongue over Ichigo’s, stroking the soft, yielding muscle. They snatched quick, panting breaths between kisses, loud in the quiet room.

 

A few steps forward and Grimmjow felt the Shinigami bump into the bed. Eagerly, he pushed forward, trying to force him down. Ichigo fought him with stinging, biting kisses that left his lips swollen and sore. Layers of back and white cloth seemed to double in weight, and Grimmjow wriggled out of his clothes. He slipped his hands under the boy’s shihakushō, shoving it off in harsh, rapid movements. "Why are you wearing so much crap?" he asked in exasperation.

 

Breathy laughter was his answer. Ichigo freed his arms but didn’t bother helping him, focussing instead on Grimmjow’s right ear. The Arrancar hissed. The bone fracture of his Hollow mask scraped against Ichigo’s cheek. Fleetingly, he wondered what it felt like. Ichigo’s shoulder still bled, and he traced the cut with his tongue. It tasted of copper and blood against skin like silk. At the light touch of his tongue Ichigo growled, yanking him nearer. Grimmjow let out a muffled curse when the shinigami uniform tangled around Ichigo’s hips. No longer laughing, Ichigo reached down and struggled out of the heavy material. They were both panting, unwilling or unable to speak against the thick pressure that had invaded the room.

 

When Grimmjow looked up, Ichigo’s eyes had darkened almost to black in their desire. That wide mouth had fallen open in invitation and Grimmjow seized it desperately with his own. Their skin met with a heat that seemed almost supernatural. Calloused hands slid up his ribs and Grimmjow shuddered. His own body was bruising fast from the fight but he barely felt the ache. He pushed harder and Ichigo pushed back, his hands tightening against Grimmjow’s sides like he never wanted to let go.

 

Frantically Grimmjow pressed forward, threading a leg between Ichigo’s thighs. The other boy tried to make room for him, but slipped against the satin sheets and they tumbled backwards onto the bed. Grimmjow might have laughed, but he could feel all of Ichigo’s wiry body beneath him and the blood rushed straight to his cock. Hard against his hips, Ichigo’s own cock jerked.

 

Grimmjow leaned down and pressed his teeth into Kurosaki's wounded shoulder. The Shinigami let out a sharp cry and arched against him. Grinning, he did it again. "Feel better?" he whispered, and, even to his own ears, his voice was hoarse, distorted with lust.

 

"Yes," gasped Ichigo. The primal part in Grimmjow that was screaming _mineminemine_ thrilled at that whispered word. "It’s good, it’s - Byakuya nev-"

 

Grimmjow scowled. "Don’t," he muttered. "I'm gonna make you come so hard you'll forget everythin' but my name. And that you'll be screamin'.” Even as he spoke he began slithering down Ichigo’s body. Something in him wanted to wipe that man’s name from Ichigo’s very soul. Smirking, Grimmjow settled between the boy’s legs. Above him Ichigo’s brown eyes widened.

 

Sticking out his long, supple tongue, Grimmjow ran it up the length of Ichigo’s dick. " _Hah_.." Ichigo’s head fell back against the pillows, his fingers twisting in the sheets. It had been a long time since Grimmjow had willingly done this for another person, but the sight of Ichigo writhing beneath his mouth set his blood on fire. He worshipped that slender, rigid organ, laying open-mouthed kisses along the vein until Ichigo begged him for more. Only when he heard that faint, frantic plea did Grimmjow relent, and he dragged Ichigo’s cock into his throat.

 

Giving a trembling moan, Ichigo reached for him, tangling his fingers in Grimmjow’s bright blue hair, tight enough to hurt. Beside Grimmjow’s shoulder, the muscles of his thighs were trembling minutely, covered in a faint sheen of sweat. Grimmjow watched the quick rise and fall of Ichigo’s stomach as he sucked, the scent of sweat and blood and lust curling through his lungs. Ichigo was close, trembling beneath his mouth. As much as he wanted to watch him come, Grimmjow decided that he could be in a better position to see it.

 

Slowly he let Ichigo fall from his mouth, rising to perch on his knees. The boy’s calf pressed into his thigh, burning right down to the bone. "Up," he muttered, his entire body pounding with urgent need. Ichigo’s mouth twisted a little - disappointment? - and he wriggled over onto his stomach. "No." Grimmjow stopped him with a hand on his hip, tugging him back over. "On your back." Something unfamiliar flashed in those brown eyes and Grimmjow realised that the pain he’d seen earlier was gone. "Lift your hips," he instructed huskily - desire had apparently left him with only three word sentences. Ichigo obeyed him warily, relaxing a little as Grimmjow slid a pillow underneath them.

 

Some thorough investigation revealed a tube of lube and a pack of condoms in the little chest of drawers by the bed. Grimmjow didn’t bother with the condoms - he very much doubted a dead thing and a spirit could pass on disease, and he didn’t want a single barrier between him and that strong, supple body. Settling down again between Ichigo’s legs, Grimmjow gripped his pale thighs and spread them further.

 

A slight, discomfited noise made him grin. "Don’ worry, Strawberry," he said, grinning. "You look great."

 

"Tch," but from his voice alone Grimmjow could hear his embarrassment, and beneath that overwhelming desire. He bent down. "Oi, don't do that." Ichigo tried to pull him up. Grimmjow raised a haughty eyebrow. "It's dirty," Ichigo finished lamely.

 

"I've just had your _cock_ down my throat," Grimmjow stated in a voice that echoed his statement. "I think we're past the point to be worryin' about _germs_." A fine blush spread over those pretty cheekbones and Grimmjow found the energy to thank Kuchiki for being a bastard.

 

Ichigo was tight - tighter than he’d expected, given the fiancé. Carefully, fearfully, Grimmjow slid in one finger, slick with lube. His body contracted around Grimmjow’s bony digit and the Arrancar dug his claws into Ichigo’s thigh. A cry escaped the Shinigami and he thrust up against Grimmjow’s other hand. Hastily, he slipped in a second finger. Smouldering eyes gazed at him, half-lidded, from pink satin sheets. Grimmjow felt something lurch uncomfortably in his stomach. Perhaps he was getting an ulcer.

 

"I’m ready," Ichigo muttered from tense lips. Grimmjow glanced at his two fingers, barely buried in that tight heat, and he very much doubted it. As if reading his mind, Ichigo canted his hips upward and spoke again, "I thought you were going to make me _bleed_ ," he hissed mockingly, daring Grimmjow’s sanity.

 

Desire rose like a tsunami to devour him whole, and Grimmjow surrendered. With swift, unsteady movements, Grimmjow spread a generous amount of lube over his own cock. Ichigo was watching him fiercely, his hands clenching and unclenching beside him. He willingly spread his legs further as Grimmjow nudged up against him and finally - _finally_ \- Grimmjow was pushing inside him.

 

It was like a tight, hot vice, killing him with pleasure. Ichigo groaned, and Grimmjow felt the scrape of their skin echoed in the slick noise their bodies made as he pressed inside. Cobalt eyes flickering over Ichigo’s taut expression, Grimmjow rested his hips against the boy’s ass for a moment. He scraped his nails over Ichigo's nipples and was rewarded with a low moan.

 

 _If you could see him_ now _, Kuchiki…_ thought Grimmjow gleefully. For the substitute Shinigami was panting desperately, speared on Grimmjow’s body, his cock lying rock hard and trembling against his belly. Grimmjow took a deep breath, sucking in the smell of sex that hung in the room like mist.

 

Alert for any kind of reaction, Grimmjow gradually rotated his hips, rolling them in little circles against Ichigo’s pelvis. Slow shivers ran up the boy’s body from where Grimmjow was embedded in his ass. He needed to be careful, to keep Ichigo sweet so they could do this again. Grimmjow very rarely questioned himself, so he didn’t bother second guessing his motives, just keeping his movements gentle, and very deliberately trying not to think. Another heartfelt groan as he pulled out, and Grimmjow felt light-headed and suddenly elated. He spread apart Ichigo's cheeks and watched as he sank into the pliant flesh. "Hungry, ain’t you? You’re swallowin’ me up like you've been gaggin’ for it," he whispered, smirking. At his words Kurosaki reached up and whacked him. "Ow! What was’at for?"

 

"This ain’t a fucking porno movie, Grimmjow," the golden-toned boy grumbled.

 

The Arrancar grinned slyly. "I'll remember to bring the camera, next time."

 

Ichigo snorted. "Idiot," he mumbled, slinging his legs up around Grimmjow’s waist.

 

"Yeah," breathed the Arrancar shakily as Ichigo’s body drew him deeper. Curving over his hips, Grimmjow let his hands fall with a thud on the bed on either side of Ichigo’s shoulders. They both gasped as Grimmjow moved again.

 

When the head of cock threatened to fall from Ichigo’s delicious body, Grimmjow thrust back in. Ichigo arched up, digging his fingers into Grimmjow’s shoulders. Half-laughing, Grimmjow rippled his muscles, thrusting deeply inside Ichigo and relishing the pain. Both of them were achingly hard, and Grimmjow knew that it wouldn’t take long for either of them to come.

 

Again he pulled out and thrust back in, forcing himself as deep as he could go. Ichigo clawed up, slamming his hips against Grimmjow’s with enough force to make them ache. Their movements became rapid and desperate. Growling deep in his throat Grimmjow sank his teeth into Ichigo’s neck, just above the cut, his Hollow mask pressing against Ichigo’s skin. Frantically he shoved into Ichigo as hard as they could bear. The Shinigami was grunting in his ear. Grimmjow sensed his own climax, like a cliff over the edge of nothingness, and quickly snuck a hand between their bodies. He gave the boy a few hard tugs and Ichigo was coming.

 

That luscious body contracted viciously and Grimmjow groaned as he gave in to his own orgasm. Blinding flashes of ecstasy carried him through a few last forceful thrusts and Grimmjow sank down onto Ichigo’s pliant form.

 

For long moments Grimmjow let the languid feeling of relief flow through him. His muscles were exhausted, yielding, and the tension that had brought him to Karakura was gone. Slowly his breathing steadied, returning to normal. He was very aware of Ichigo’s limbs entwined loosely with his own. There would be bruises on his back - perhaps claw marks, Grimmjow thought gleefully - and Ichigo would have his own collection of wounds. Even as he thought that, beneath him Ichigo let out a hushed, drowsy noise. With what felt like supreme effort, Grimmjow wriggled off him and flopped onto his side. If the Shinigami wanted him further away, he’d have to shove him off the bed himself because Grimmjow couldn‘t be bothered moving. The sheets were surprisingly soft given the fact that the room couldn’t be worth more than a few thousand yen. Not to mention the sickening, saccharine scent that it seemed to be drenched with, one which had suddenly become much more obvious now that his nostrils weren’t full of sweat and sex and Ichigo.

 

 _Sweat and sex and Ichigo…_ Those words had never fit before in his head, but now they were falling into this new pattern, and Grimmjow found that he liked it.

 

"Uh... Grimmjow..."

 

The Arrancar opened one eye lazily. Beside him Kurosaki shifted nervously. "Eh?" Both eyes opened and his eyebrows rose into his hairline. Ichigo had definitely come - there was evidence to the fact all over his stomach - but the shinigami's cock lay rigid and trembling against his belly. "Fuckin' teenagers," Grimmjow growled. He rolled onto his back, bringing the boy with him. "C'mon then," he stated roughly, rolling his hips a little to avoid a broken spring. The shinigami still looked confused, so he tapped him on the nose and grinned. "You gonna fuck me, or what?"

 

Brown eyes widened. "You'd... let me...?"

 

"Don't get me confused with that Kuchiki-bastard," he snapped. The thought fanned his irritation at the comment into rage. He pulled his lips back from his teeth in an ugly snarl. "If I wanted a whore, I’d buy one." At that something both shattered and furious raced through Ichigo’s eyes. Grimmjow hesitated, but the Shinigami was already grinning, the expression gone. _Good_ , Grimmjow thought, uneasily aware that he was overly conscious of the boy’s moods.

 

"Tch," teased Ichigo. "As if. You couldn’t _pay_ someone enough."

 

That surprised a laugh out of him. "I didn’ have to pay _you_ , Strawberry." Ichigo bit him. "Ow!" Grimmjow stared at the boy’s head as he moved down his body.

 

"Shuttup," he muttered, his words muffled by Grimmjow’s skin. Oddly enough, he was heading straight for the empty hole in the middle of the Arrancar’s stomach. Gentle fingers explored its velvet edge and Grimmjow couldn’t repress a shiver. A Hollow hole was universally familiar in their world, yet his had never been touched. Not like this.

 

Ichigo slid his tongue along the rippled abdomen and Grimmjow let out a rumbling sound. "Saa," Ichigo breathed with a faint smirk. "Never thought I could make you purr."

 

"Hmph." Grimmjow rolled his eyes. "Get on with it, brat." A smile crossed Ichigo’s face, and the Shinigami ignored him. He focussed on the Arrancar’s body, tracking the curve of his muscles with his mouth. Under his ministrations Grimmjow found the traces of anger in his blood turning swiftly to desire. By now his cock was almost as hard as Ichigo’s, but the Shinigami, Grimmjow noted with a frown, seemed content to ignore it.

 

Before Grimmjow could plot revenge, however, he felt a slender finger tease into him. The cunning little brat must have found the lube. Ichigo was careful and strangely uncertain, but to Grimmjow the sensation was not unfamiliar. He relaxed as best he could and looped a leg over Ichigo's shoulder. The Shinigami concentrated on his task and Grimmjow gazed at the ceiling. It was dotted with bits of flaking paint and watermarks which his eyes tried to make patterns from.

 

Abruptly Ichigo slid three fingers deep inside him and Grimmjow had to suck in a breath at the sudden spark of pleasure that shot through him. The Shinigami paused. Eyes glittering, Grimmjow glanced down to ask why the _fuck_ he’d stopped.

 

To his surprise, Ichigo was staring up at him with an expression he‘d never seen before. "Are... you sure?" the boy asked with uncharacteristic hesitance. It didn’t suit him.

 

Grimmjow kicked him in the head. " _Ow_ ," cried Ichigo, jerking away from his foot. "What was _that_ for?!"

 

"Stop being an idiot," Grimmjow shot back. He wasn’t quite sure which of them he was talking to. "Get _on_ with it already."

 

"Fine, fine." He slid his fingers out, kneeling between the Arrancar’s legs. Ichigo mouthed at the soft, silken edges of the hole in his stomach, and Grimmjow twisted his hips involuntarily. Then the head of Ichigo’s cock pushed into him, stretching his muscles almost to breaking point. Grimmjow shut his eyes, concentrating on the exquisite ache as Ichigo slid into him all the way.

 

Grimacing, he waited for the pain to recede, and felt lips touch one of his closed eyes with unfamiliar warmth. He opened them to see Ichigo's face hovering bare inches away, gazing at him with something like tenderness in those brown eyes. "Um, thanks," Ichigo murmured softly, eyes never wavering. Grimmjow stared at him for a minute in silence, until Ichigo began to look nervous. "What?" he asked warily.

 

"Fuck it," Grimmjow whispered finally, and he tugged Ichigo's head down until their mouths met. Wet and swollen, Ichigo’s lips opened willingly for his tongue. Grimmjow ravished the Shinigami’s warm, yielding mouth with relish. Nothing in this Shinigami was forbidden to him, now. He owned every skin cell, every drop of blood, every panting gasp. All of Kurosaki Ichigo belonged to him, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques.

 

Delighted at Ichigo’s surrender, Grimmjow kissed him slowly, tasting every inch of skin that he could reach. As their tongues touched he felt Ichigo shift, his hips grinding into his. A sigh escaped him, and Ichigo swallowed it with an open-mouthed kiss. Shifting again, Ichigo drew away, a cute little frown marring his features as he tried to find somewhere to put his hands. Each movement sent a tantalising shiver through their connected bodies and Grimmjow found himself straining for more.

 

With a sigh he wrapped both legs around Ichigo’s waist, tugging him closer. He slid one hand over the boy’s spine to grip that tight ass. "You’re fine," he muttered, impatient. "Move."

 

"Patience is a virtue," Ichigo murmured back, but he took Grimmjow’s advice, steadying himself against the bed and pulling his hips away. Ichigo’s cock scraped over his prostate and Grimmjow let out a pleased hum. He imagined what Ichigo’s own ass looked like now, bruised and leaking cum. Growling, Grimmjow squeezed his thighs against Ichigo’s pelvis and urged the boy on.

 

Ichigo thrust back into him with a low moan. "… tight," he whispered throatily in Grimmjow’s ear.

 

The Arrancar snorted. "Now who sounds like a porn star?" he asked, but his voice lurched unsteadily each time Ichigo thrust into him. The boy’s flesh grated along his own blissfully, and every time his cock met Grimmjow’s prostate small, white fireworks erupted in front of his eyes.

 

Planting a foot flat against the bed, Grimmjow met Ichigo’s thrusts with his own. He used the movement to tilt his hips, pulling Ichigo in even deeper. Harsh, breathless gasps filled his ears as Ichigo fucked him. Familiar pleasure began building in his loins, an urgent pressure that needed only the slightest push to explode. Sweat dripped onto his chest from Ichigo’s body. Their rutting figures slammed into each other, moving faster and harder with each thrust.

 

Grimmjow grit his teeth on a moan and dug his claws into Ichigo’s shoulder. Skin split beneath his hands, adding another wound to the Shinigami’s collection. The scent of blood hung, almost tangible, in the air. As he leant down Ichigo brushed Grimmjow’s straining cock with his undulating abdomen. The Arrancar arched upwards, flashes of ecstasy shooting through his veins. Another casual brush and he was coming, shuddering with ecstasy and giving in to pleasure. It took only seconds longer for Ichigo to join him. The boy tensed and Grimmjow felt his cock tremble and burst inside him.

 

Around them in the dimly lit room the silence was broken by their irregular breathing. Ichigo sank slowly down on top of him, letting out a drained sigh. His sweat-slicked body fell into Grimmjow’s arms like it had been made for them.

 

Frowning, Grimmjow kept his hand away from Ichigo’s tangled hair, which it longed to sink into. Once more he found himself staring up at the ceiling. There was a broken spring digging into his lower back. Grimmjow cleared his throat. He never cuddled. Never.

 

Ichigo bit him again. "Oi!" he yelped. "What the fuck, Kurosaki?!"

 

"Shuttup."

 

"I didn’t say anything!" Grimmjow exclaimed.

 

"You were gonna." The Arrancar made an offended noise and didn’t answer. "I want to go to sleep." With no further adieu the shinigami snuggled into Grimmjow's side and tucked his head into the pillow. After a shocked few moments, the Arrancar heard soft snores. He lay there silently, the young Shinigami nestled comfortably in his arms, wondering when the hell his life had gotten so fucked up.

 

_x_

 

The soft dawn light cast bleak rays into their borrowed room. With an irritated sound Grimmjow rubbed at his face and took a quick look around. He grimaced when he saw the lean figure of the Kurosaki brat stretched out beside him. Wonderful, just wonderful, he'd fucked the baby Shinigami.

 

The boy shifted against him in his sleep, murmuring quietly, and a swift surge of… _something_ made Grimmjow catch his breath. For some stupid, damnable reason, he didn’t want to wake the sleeping Shinigami just yet. He wanted to keep the world away for a little longer.

 

Strands of orange-gold hair fell over his shoulder as Ichigo nuzzled into the pillow. Turning just slightly, Grimmjow inhaled the scent of honey and sex that clung to him. Strange, he hadn’t even realised the lube was flavoured. Desire rose in him, faint after their exertions, but it fixated on the idea of flavoured lube with rapt hunger. Grimmjow squashed it down. From the look of Ichigo’s body, he wouldn’t be ready for a third round just yet, and Grimmjow had his own aches to deal with.

 

 _Soon_ , Grimmjow promised himself, eyes tracing the Shinigami’s lightly muscled limbs. Something made him pause suddenly. He shut his eyes, letting his _pesquisa_ expand in a slow, widening circle.

 

Grimmjow caught the approaching _reiatsu_ and grinned, his eyes still closed. If there was one thing he'd been dieing for, it was a good fight, and it looked like he might finally get his wish.

 

With a smug, expectant smirk he slid delicately out of the twisted sheets. The love hotel fairly resounded with the new Shinigami’s presence, all fragile regret and cautious, desperate hope. Grimmjow almost laughed. _Too little, too late, Shinigami._

 

Stepping quietly away from the bed, Grimmjow went eagerly toward that _reiatsu_. Against Ichigo’s heat and fire it felt cold, withdrawn. Quickly he ran a hand through the snarls in his blue hair. On the floor lay their clothes, but Grimmjow left them there. This would be far better without them.

 

Swinging the door open, Grimmjow crossed his arms and propped his shoulders up against the frame. He stretched his long, naked body out along its length and cocked an eyebrow at the Shinigami captain that stood opposite him.

 

"Mornin’ Byakuya. How’s it goin’ up in Sereitei?" A laugh built up in his chest and made the words tremble. Kuchiki Byakuya stood outside the door of the love hotel in full captain regalia, his grey eyes wide and shocked. The man stared at him, his gaze wavering as he registered his nakedness. Grimmjow bit back a snort as Byakuya tore his gaze up to look him in the face. This was _too_ good. "Can I help you with somethin’, _captain_?"

 

Recalling himself, the dark-haired Shinigami stood up straighter. "I must have been mistaken. I thought…" Those elegant brows formed a slight frown. Like a summer breeze Grimmjow felt the man's _reiatsu_ fluctuate, searching. Its touch made him feel nauseous and he wondered, not for the first time, if it was Ichigo’s Hollow that tinged his _reiatsu_ with that tempting, addictive stain.

 

Shaking his blue head, Grimmjow turned the right side of his face and his fractured Hollow mask toward the Shinigami. It seemed to make them uneasy. "Nah, you weren’t." He did laugh, then. "You’re lookin’ for the Strawberry, ain’t ya?" Grimmjow turned a little so Byakuya had a clear view. From the sudden pain that leapt into his eyes, Grimmjow knew he'd seen the curve of Ichigo's tanned back, littered with bruises and bite marks. He relished the man’s agony. "I fucked 'im four ways from Sunday," he drawled, and the hate-fed rage that erupted through Byakuya’s _reiatsu_ thrilled him to the core.

 

" _You_ -" The noble Shinigami choked on his words. He visibly tried to calm himself, retracting the tangible threads of _reiatsu_ within himself. "Let me see him," he said coldly.

 

"No," Grimmjow replied immediately, enjoying himself immensely. Snarling, Byakuya stepped forward. Instantly the blue-haired Arrancar blocked his way, throwing one arm against the door frame. He grinned wildly. "Ah-ah, Shinigami. When I say no, I mean _no fucking way_."

 

Disgust curled the Shinigami noble’s lip as he looked at Grimmjow; ah now _this_ was familiar territory. "It's my right," Byakuya retorted, his voice even frostier, if such a thing were possible.

 

Grimmjow shook his head, baring his wicked teeth. "You gave up your rights soon as you fucked that massive red-'ead." Dark eyes widened in shock. The Arrancar breathed a laugh at the look on his face. "You should've thought o' that before you bent over for 'im, ne? An' in broad daylight in your own rooms, too." He tutted. "S'like you almost _wanted_ 'im to see."

 

"That has _nothing_ to do with you," spat Byakuya, but Grimmjow could see the crushed doubt lying in his eyes. "Let me see him," he said again, but his voice was no longer firm.

 

"No," Grimmjow said, and he was serious now. "He doesn’t want you, Shinigami. You turned ‘im away, and he came to _me_." Byakuya winced. Each word he spoke seemed to draw the knife in deeper. "You’ve got _no right_ to be here." Grimmjow flicked his fingers out in a shooing motion. "Go."

 

Hesitant, Byakuya coiled one hand around the handle of his zanpakutō. Grimmjow tensed. _Try it_ , he thought, urging him on, narrowing his eyes to glittering points. _I dare you._

 

But the Shinigami wasn’t looking at him. After a few minutes, Byakuya relaxed, and his hand fell weakly from his zanpakutō. Those light grey eyes wouldn’t meet his gaze. "Fine," the Shinigami noble murmured. He opened his mouth to say something else, but then apparently decided against it. Inclining his head sharply, Byakuya slid one foot back and disappeared.

 

Grimmjow glanced down the hall warily, almost expecting the Shinigami to pounce on him from the shadows. Finally he was content that the love hotel was empty of trespassing, interfering old nobles, and Grimmjow shut the door. Then he realised that the sound of Ichigo’s deep breathing had ceased some time ago. He turned.

 

Ichigo was staring off at the point where Byakuya had disappeared. Grimmjow frowned. "Oi." _Look at me._ "I want compensation for that." It worked, and Ichigo snorted, rolling his eyes.

 

"Please," he huffed, and slumped back against the pillows. Tilting his head, Ichigo eyed the many bruises that littered the Arrancar's muscled body with a smug, satisfied air. Grimmjow preened under the attention. "So," said the young Shinigami. "Now what?"

 

Slowly, and very deliberately, Grimmjow stretched his arms up over his head, watching as Ichigo’s eyes raked over his body. He scratched his neck, pretending to give the matter serious consideration. Then he leered at Ichigo. "More of the same?" he suggested.

 

"Tch, if you _can_ ," Ichigo smirked back.

 

"If I _can_?" Outraged, the Arrancar leapt onto the laughing Shinigami, determined to drive every other thought out of that pretty golden head.

 


End file.
